I crouched on the floor, sorting through the market data I'd collected through countless skipped meals and sleepless nights, and tears dripped one by one onto the contracts.

Ten minutes later, I straightened up and dialed the company's internal line, my voice level.

"Roger Finch, pass the word. The sales team meets in the conference room in ten minutes."

I shoved the noise out of my head and sat down with the sales director, the general manager, and the others to work through next quarter's plan.

We drafted the expansion strategy and reached out to our regular clients.

By the time the work was done, it was night, and I realized I hadn't eaten a single thing all day.

I lingered in the office for a quarter of an hour, then grabbed my car keys and headed home.

She was just a young girl. A little jealousy, a little insecurity, that I could understand. Mom and Dad would believe me. They would see right from wrong.

The moment I stepped into the living room, even though I'd braced myself, something in my chest still ached.

My mother sat beside Irma Finch, feeding her one spoonful at a time.

Dad sat on the sofa, poring over a stack of documents.

"There, sweetheart, eat more. I simmered this premium health tonic for two hours myself, added cordyceps and everything. Look how thin you are."

"The doctor said today that you're anemic, too. How on earth did that foster mother of yours treat you?"

Irma clung sweetly to my mother's arm, smiling as she said,

"Mom, my foster mother loved me too. Pulling weeds every day, cooking, washing clothes, it really wasn't so hard. All the kids up in the mountains live that way."

"After Dad passed, she raised me and my little brother all on her own. It wasn't easy for her. If hitting me a few times and yelling at me made her feel better, then that's fine."

My mother's face shifted, and Dad looked up too, a fresh flicker of anger in his eyes.

"Despicable. Treating a daughter of my Pruitt family like that…"

At the sound of the door, every head turned toward me.

Irma scrambled to her feet at once and, in her flustered haste, knocked over my mother's bowl.

She dropped back down to the floor, frantically picking up the pieces.

"Mom, I'm sorry, it was all my carelessness. I'll never break another bowl, I promise. Please don't hit me."

My mother couldn't hold back her grief and fury another second. She pulled Irma into her arms and broke into wails.

"Oh, my daughter, you've suffered so much."

Irma's eyes reddened as well, and she gently dabbed at my mother's tears.

"Mom, it's all my fault. I accidentally got my sister burned this morning, and she didn't mean to push me, she was just angry for a moment. And tonight I knocked over the bowl by accident. I really am useless."

Alex Gilbert stepped in front of me, his gaze hard and cold,

his tone thick with resentment.

"Ida, I know you can't stand it, having to hand over what's yours to Irma, so you back her into a corner at every turn. Irma's timid by nature, that's why she panics and goes pale in front of you."

"Let me make this clear. Irma is my fiancée. Drop that superior attitude of yours, keep a low profile from now on, and stop bullying her."

There was no guilt on Alex's face. Only cold contempt.

I looked at the four of them, my eyes icy, and suddenly I saw it in every gaze: something heavy, something laden, disappointment, sorrow.

So it really was me who had bullied Irma Finch.

And I had no idea how to explain.

The living room sank into silence. After a moment, my father spoke, slowly,

"Ida, good thing you're here. There's something I need to tell you."

"I know you're a capable, good child. But our Pruitt family's true daughter has come home now. I've decided to transfer all of Pruitt Group's shares over to Irma, to give her the footing she needs to stand in high society."

"And the clients, the team, the resources you hold, ease Irma into them little by little, and let her take over from here on out."

A bucket of ice water poured down over my head. The living room was as warm as a spring breeze, yet I was shaking from head to toe.

The father I thought trusted me, the father who doted on me, had in the end surrendered to blood.

He'd forgotten that the patents were ones I'd developed with my own two hands, that the team was one I'd built piece by piece, that every client resource had been won by me, minute by grinding minute.

He'd forgotten that the Pruitt name stood among the very top tier because this daughter had clawed her way up to put it there.

Watching the way my father's eyes fixed on me, the thread of family feeling deep inside me loosened, inch by inch, going cold, going stiff.

I wanted to say,

"Dad, Irma doesn't understand a thing. She'll destroy Pruitt Group."

"I wanted to say, Dad, do you not love me anymore? You told me yourself I was your most brilliant daughter, that Pruitt Group would flourish in my hands."

But my mouth hung open, and in the end not a single word came out.

Seeing my silence, Alex Gilbert took it for refusal. He lunged forward, seized my hand, and flung it toward my father.

"Ida Pruitt, don't think I can't see what you're scheming. You just want to grab every Pruitt asset and grind Irma under your heel, don't you?"

"Today you're signing that transfer, or there's no telling how you'll bully Irma later on."

The broken blister on the back of my hand tore under the brutal yank, a pain that bored straight to the bone. I frowned and let out a stifled grunt.

What came next wasn't worry or care. It was a pen, jammed hard into my hand.

"Sign it. None of this was ever yours. What right do you have to seize what belongs to someone else?"

My eyes burned red, locked on Alex Gilbert. The same Alex who used to fetch medicine and bring me water, fretting over me the moment I so much as coughed. My former fiancé.

I didn't understand. Twenty years of feeling, and it had all been an act?

I hurled the pen straight at his face, anger spilling past anything I could hold back.

"Alex Gilbert, Pruitt business is none of yours. You're an outsider. What gives you the right to stand here and dictate to me? Crawl back to the Gilberts where you belong."

His face flushed crimson. He opened his mouth to snap back at me, but my father's voice cut in first, unhurried yet heavy with authority.

"Nina, I'd intended to treat you and Irma the same. You're both my daughters. The assets split down the middle, one half each."

"But you've disappointed us too deeply. To openly bully Irma like that. If Pruitt Group went into your hands, with your methods, wouldn't you keep her trampled beneath you forever?"

"Dad, I didn't, it was actually—"

"Enough, Ida Pruitt. You've disappointed me more than I can say. In the face of money, you've turned this vicious, this small."

"I've already watched the footage. It's plain as day, you're the one who shoved her down."

The tears spilled over all at once.

Looking at the venom in Alex Gilbert's eyes, at the grief and disillusionment on my parents' faces, I wiped the corners of my eyes and smiled.

"Fine. If you both think I want to steal from your daughter, then I'll sign. That's all."

I picked up the pen, scrawled my name in two or three quick strokes, and threw it at Alex Gilbert's face.

He snatched it up at once and held it out to Irma Finch, pulling her into his arms, elated.

"Irma, from now on you're the heir to Pruitt Group. No one will ever dare bully you again."

My parents watched the two of them clinging together with relief, their eyes brimming with indulgence.

I looked at that searing scene and slowly backed away.

So be it.

It had always belonged to the Pruitts. They'd raised me for twenty years. They'd done more than enough. It was right to give it back.

I, Ida Pruitt, had the ability to build Pruitt Group. I had the ability to build my own company too.

I turned, about to take my first step out, when Irma Finch's frail voice came from behind me.

"Sister, there's one more thing I need to trouble you with."

"Now that we've each returned to our rightful place, there's the childhood arranged marriage your mother set up for you back in Finch Village. They've accepted holiday gifts from us for twenty years. If I'm the one to call it off now, he'll never let it rest. He'll say the Pruitts look down on the poor and chase after the rich."

"Sister, marry him in my place."